s no need to kill more of zese men. Led zem go
peacefully while we make ze mosd of ze nighd which remains. Meinheer,
id is near ze hour of midnighd. Your wadch should commence now. I will
sleeb, for I am weary."

He seemed to have forgotten the fact that it was his drowsiness which
had almost brought disaster to the expedition, and that Dick's watch
should have commenced at nine and ended at twelve. With a grunt he
rolled along the deck, leaving our hero in command of the situation.

CHAPTER FIVE.

A QUESTION OF IMPORTANCE.

Dick shivered and fidgeted. He tapped the deck gently with his toe, and
then got up and clambered to the roof of the tiny cabin again, for he
was ill at ease. It was not the chill air of the early morning which
made his blood run cold, nor the damp mist which rose on every side from
river and jungle, from the stagnant pools lying amidst the roots of
giant trees and boulders, and from the mossy margins of the stream,
where the eddies played, and the current was still. It was neither of
these, for there was no chill in the heart of this African country. The
morning was almost as stiflingly hot as the night had been, though the
green of the leaves, and the shimmer of the river surface as it met his
eye through the thin mist, looked cool and refreshing. Dick was uneasy
in his mind. As he had sat the hours of darkness through his thoughts
had been busy. Remorse, anguish, bitter self-condemnation had come in
turn to torture his mind, and now, as the darkness waned and the light
increased, he was constantly on the move, searching the river-bank on
the far side.

"There! Yes, that is the tree," he said, as he pointed to the bush
beyond. "I can recognise it, and beneath it lie those poor fellows. I
killed them! They are stretched out there cold and stiff, those whom
the water does not cover. Oh, it is awful to think about."

He wrung his hands, while there was a look of anguish on his usually
jolly face. Had James Langdon, the rascal who had made the attack in
the night which had just passed, been able to see him he would have
laughed, for this sturdy young Englishman, looking so strong and active
on this early morning, would hardly have dared to lift his rifle. He
was suffering the torment of mind which has come to many a thousand
young warriors before him. Not because he wished it, but owing to pure
accident, he had the blood of fellow beings on his hands. He had killed
men.